Department of the Supernatural (DOS)
by A Broken Shoelace
Summary: The Unexplained Phenomena Unit (UPU) of SHIELD was a joke. Someone forgot to tell that to Jacobs and Kinney. One's got an attitude problem, the other has anxiety issues, but they're both done being obsolete. Enter a few hunters, and there's a serious department in the making.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this has been rolling around in my head for a while. It takes place around 2008-ish a little after the first Iron Man and** ** **between 4 and 3** of Supernatural, before Dean comes back from hell. Men of Letters are not in the picture yet. They may not be at all. I haven't decided.  
**

 **Now, the Supernatural/Avengers crossover is not new at all, and there are a bunch of stories out there, so I apologize if this is similar to anything already out there. All I can say is that I haven't read every single crossover fic with in these fandoms and didn't mean to rip anyone off.**

 **Anyway, I don't know what I think of my first chapter, and I'm not sure if I'll continue this. I don't know why, but it seems to me that it's harder to write fanfiction for a movie or TV show than it is for a book. Regardless, hope y'all enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OCs**

The Unexplained Phenomena Unit of SHIELD was a joke. It was one of those utterly useless, obsolete, abstractly defined departments every organization has. Most people forgot it even existed half the time, including the director, unless of course he wanted to punish an agent by having them spend a few months there.

The office where the UPU was located consisted of two desks with one laptop between them. It employed only one person, a completely unremarkable analyst. People forgot she existed too.

"You gotta be shitting me," said a newly assigned to the UPU.

The analyst picked her head up. "Hey."

He ignored her. She tried not to take offense. New agents assigned to her unit were usually agents who were troublemakers or close to retirement. Hardly any of them stuck around long, and she wasn't the most social person, so it was okay that he just shook his head and took a desk, simmering in silence at his lot in life.

"I'd say it gets better, but it really doesn't," she said in consolation.

He glared at her. Yep, not the right thing to say. She really needed to work on her people skills.

"I'm Kinney," she tried to make small talk.

"Jacobs," he grunted.

She took that as a win and decided to let him seethe as privately as their tiny, shared office would allow. There would be time for further conversation later, or there wouldn't, and that was fine too.

* * *

Jacobs hated people like Kinney. They were the kind that came in, did their nine-to-five and nothing more and prayed they kept their job until retirement. Her kind of people never did anything with their lives, never made a difference, were never remembered.

That was part of his problem. He was always trying to make sure no one forgot him, always making a name for himself. It got him in trouble more often than not, landing him with citations and notes in his file about his impulsive recklessness. He was just trying to do his job and not be replaced, but no one else saw it that way. Apparently, he got so bad, Fury took it upon himself to personally assign him to this new shithole.

"If anyone can do something in that department, it's you," were the director's exact words, said with a smirk to his lips and a gleam in his one remaining eye.

It was the perfect punishment, if Jacobs was being honest. If he could be less pissed about the whole thing, he would be amused at how creative Fury could be. It was brilliant, giving him job that meant squat at the end of the day.

"I put in a requisition for a laptop for you," Kinney said, breaking into his thoughts.

He rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"It probably won't even get looked at for weeks," she continued. "And then it'll probably be denied."

"So?" he sneered, hoping his tone will discourage her from further talk.

"Maybe you should bring your own."

He sighed. "Against SHIELD policy, remember? No outside mobile devices including phones, laptops, tablets, and anything else not protected by SHEILD software are allowed in the building."

"Get it approved for SHIELD software."

He sat up. "Huh?"

She wrung her hands, like the concept of having a conversation was distressing, which served her right for bugging him all the time. "You're more likely to get the software alone approved. It's not as expensive as being given an entire laptop. They'll send a techie to set it up for you at your home so you can bring it in next time you come in for work."

It actually sounded like a good idea. With a laptop, he could at least waste time online instead of being bored out of his skull.

"Maybe I'll do that."

She jerked her head down in a sharp nod and retreated into silence, having reached her quota for conversation for the day.

* * *

Jacobs having a laptop cut back on the irritated sighs and growls Kinney had to listen to day in and day out. She should just be glad he was always too mad to sleep. She could just picture him as a snorer.

"What do you do all day?" he asked one day after his first month with her had passed with absolutely zero acknowledgement.

She almost fell out of her chair. Was he really initiating conversation? None of the others who passed through ever bothered.

"Cat videos are getting boring," Jacobs explained, reading her thoughts.

She smiled uncertainly at him. "Uh, well, I scan the various news sources for anything deemed strange."

"Like a guy in a metal suit kind of strange?"

She shook her head. "No, more like animal attacks that don't involve any known animals, weather patterns that don't match forecasts, unusual deaths, disappearances, stuff like that."

Jacobs raised an eyebrow. "X-files sort of stuff?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"So, this is my job now," Jacobs muttered. "I'm Mulder."

"Ooh, I always identified with him best," Kinney decided to share.

It earned her another one of Jacobs's glares. She shrank in on herself, wishing he would stop being so intense. Life was intense enough on its own.

"Don't you dare call be Scully," he warned.

She tried for a smile that she was sure was more of a grimace. "You're not pretty enough."

Jacobs kept his glare for another ten seconds before his shoulders started shaking. Kinney's eyes widened, scared she'd made him so upset he could barely contain his rage. All she could do was be happy his name wasn't Bruce Banner and hope his explosion was brief.

When she heard him make a choking sound, she braced herself. Then he threw his head back, and his voice was less choked and more... happy? Was he laughing?

"You're no model yourself, Kinney," he snickered. "But I see your point."

She grimace-smiled at him again, wondering if he knew how rusty his laugh sounded, like he'd forgotten how to use it. Then again, her laugh probably sounded the same. "Okay."

He sighed, coming down from his amusement. Her joke wasn't that funny anyway. He was just dying for something to laugh at, and Kinney displaying her sliver of a backbone was it. "Okay, okay, so after you log down the events, what happens?"

Work, she could talk about work. "Nothing."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean nothing?"

She shrugged. "My job is to log and process them. It gets filtered by a computer. That computer highlights what is most likely to be relevant to SHIELD and it works its way up to Director Fury who then divies up assignments about who goes to check them out."

"Doesn't the computer highlight the anomalies in the first place?" Jacobs asked.

"Sure, but sometimes it highlights too many events. I whittle down the list even more, and I even connect them occasionally, like if the events seem to move locations."

Jacobs nodded. "I see. So, you're filling in a computer function in between computers?"

Kinney never thought if it like that. "I suppose so, yes."

"That's not me," Jacobs confessed. "I don't have the right mindset."

"I know. That's why I never asked you to help me."

Kinney was just being matter of fact, but Jacobs took offense. He was ashamed of not pulling his weight, even with something he deemed beneath him. Trouble was, he didn't like feeling shame. Anger and contempt were much easier to deal with.

"Well, your job is pretty pointless, don't you think?"

Her jaw tightened, but she pulled off an unbothered shrug. "It's what I've been tasked with. You too, if memory serves."

Jacobs gave a derisive snort. "No point, though. You're all that's needed, and even that's questionable."

"Keeps me from being bored," she justified it.

Jacobs perked up at that. Boredom was the bane of his existence. If he could alleviate it, even just a little, it could improve his mood, maybe get his girlfriend to stop calling him a Debbie-downer.

"How do you log everything?"

* * *

Jacobs still hated his job. It was dull, boring, tedious, and every other negative adjective he could assign to describe it. What he wouldn't give to be back in the field!

"I've gained five pounds since being here," he griped one day.

Kinney darted her eyes at him, at his stomach, and straight back to her computer. "At least seven."

"Liar," he accused.

Her lips quirked up at one corner. "Go vegan. It's what I did."

Jacobs snorted. "Yeah, not happening. You think I should up my exercise regimen?"

Kinney shrugged. "Athleticism isn't my area of expertise."

"Well, it's mine, and I think I'll double the miles I run."

Kinney nodded. She was getting used to his ramblings, and it was kind of nice having someone to listen to. All the same, she wasn't gonna miss him when he left.

"Sounds like a good idea."

Jacobs nodded and went back to work, letting the lull in conversation take its course. It'd pick up again in a few minutes.

"Huh, that's something."

Kinney looked up from her screen. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Jacobs trailed off. "There's a chain of strange events involving another series of animal attacks that just don't add up."

"So?"

Jacobs ran a hand through his hair. "It's nearby."

"In DC?"

"Virginia. But yeah, close, see?"

Kinney peered over Jacobs's shoulder. "I live a block from there."

Jacobs glanced sharply at her. "That's a dangerous neighborhood."

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I keep to myself."

"So do a bunch of murder victims."

Kinney flinched at his bluntness. "Right."

Jacobs pursed his lips and faithfully logged the information before downloading the file to his desktop. "I say we check this out."

Kinney blinked. "Huh?"

Jacobs gestured to the screen. "I say we investigate this series of events."

"But that's against protocol."

"Protocol is just guidelines to avoid total chaos," he argued. "Besides, these sorts of anomalies never get priority. What if we could save someone's life by getting involved?"

Kinney gnawed on her lip. "I don't know, Jacobs. I'm not really qualified to-"

"You're a SHIELD agent, aren't you?"

Barely, but she got his point. "I…"

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you're a step away from a yes."

"No!" she denied. "We should just follow the rules."

"Nothing in the rules says we can't do our own legwork," Jacobs argued, scowling at her.

She mustered up a glare of her own and shook her head. "It's too risky. We have no idea what we're dealing with."

"That's the whole point! Doesn't it kind of excite you, the prospect of fieldwork?"

"No," she lied. "I've never wanted to be a field agent."

Jacobs gaped at her in disbelief. Who could actually want to sit at a desk their entire lives?

Kinney sighed. "Look, if you want to investigate on your own, I won't stop you, but I want no part of it."

That would have to do. Whatever. It was probably for the best. He wasn't the sort for partners anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I never am. I just needed to get through this part in order to get the story rolling again.**

Kinney both loved and hated living alone.

She loved it, because after a day of feeling like everyone was watching her 24/7, it was nice to relax in her oasis of solitude. Privacy was worth the lack of room, the dreariness of the location, the distance from the city, and even the slight infestation of mold.

When she was alone, she could cheat on her vegan diet with the zeal of a T-Rex, watch bad reality TV, read trashy romance novels, listen to music too mainstream to be cool, and occasionally dance around her kitchen like an idiot.

There were downsides, though. Loneliness was a side-effect of seclusion. She had no family to speak of, no siblings, dead mother, estranged father. It was a prime recipe for her loneliness.

Then there was the fear too. A spiked heart rate accompanied every strange noise, oddly shaped shadow, unfamiliar face in the hall, unexpected knock on the door, and nightmare infested sleep.

So, it stood to reason that a bloodcurdling scream from the street outside would make her sit up, a choked scream of her own lodged in her throat. A long howl followed, and Kinney covered her ears, and she wished she was brave.

 _"What if we could save someone's life by getting involved?"_ Jacobs had said. His words had been ringing in her head for two days. He had refused to look at her, much less talk to her. It stood to reason he was disgusted. She was too. Being a coward was easy, but it was lonely.

* * *

Kinney was anxious about something, more so than was normal. Her knee was bouncing, and usually she tried to be still to draw as little attention as possible. She was also constantly swiveling her chair to face his desk only to open her mouth, close it, and swivel back to her own desk.

Jacobs knew he hadn't been completely fair in his dealings with her lately. Could be, she was finally gonna confront him about that, but that was as likely as his girlfriend not being a bitch, so not probable. Still, something was on Kinney's mind.

His suspicions were confirmed twenty minutes later when she piped up with a, "Can we talk?"

He raised an eyebrow, the disdain returning. Unfair or not, he had reason to not be her biggest fan. What kind of person must she be to abandon people she could save?

"I was heading to get coffee," he said, figuring she would retreat. She never so much as went to the bathroom for fear of running into other agents and having to talk.

"This won't take long," she assured him.

"Alright, what do you have for me?" he asked, expecting a demand for him to act nicer or something.

"I think I heard someone die last night."

Jacobs's jaw dropped.

* * *

Kinney, not wanting to give Jacobs time to disregard her, dove into the case facts. "Okay, so these deaths are similar to others around the nation. Vaguely canine DNA, missing hearts, but no known bite marks. Despite all the unknowns, the deaths are always classified as animal attacks, so it makes investigation difficult. Hard to start a conversation with 'Did your deceased relative anger any monstrous dogs?' right?"

Jacobs nodded, blinking and seeming to come out of his daze. "Yeah, I've been struggling to come up with a list of standard questions for this kind of case. Everything I come up with is out there."

Kinney bit her lip. "Maybe it should be."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I don't really know. Just, maybe it doesn't have to be within our usual lines. For instance, what if we said we were dog catchers or animal control and wanted to know where the victims had been in their last few days. Instead of working through motive for murder-"

"We work on the basis that it is an animal attack, which might lead us to a human killer," Jacobs finished for her.

Kinney smiled. "Exactly. Only…"

"What?"

She frowned. "I dunno. It's weird. The attacks _do_ seem animalistic in a way, and what's weirder is they all occur during the full moon."

Jacobs snorted. "Please tell me you're not really suggesting it could be a monster after all."

"Okay, then why are there so many across the country happening at the exact same times, and why do they go back as far as two-hundred years ago according to our archives, and why do they start and stop suddenly only to pop up again later?"

"That's where the investigative part comes in," Jacobs stated. "That way we can answer all those questions. Besides, it could be as simple as a cult or something, especially with the missing hearts and stuff."

"Cults aren't so simple," Kinney pointed out. "And even if they were, it doesn't match up. Cults usually have a purpose or an end goal, not to mention a hierarchy. This is random and unstructured."

"It's still no reason to go crying wolf," Jacobs cautioned her.

"That's it!" she exclaimed. "It's matches werewolf lore. Or at least, some of it does."

Jacobs shook his head, trying to forget she just said the word 'werewolf'. "You need to slow down, Mulder. First things first, I need coffee. Then we'll come up with question I can use tomorrow when I interview the families. We'll go from there, okay?"

Kinney nodded, a little disappointed to have her theorizing cut short. He was right, though. They couldn't jump to conclusions.

Then he popped his head back in. "Sorry, just to clarify, someone died near your place, and you think it's connected to this?"

"Yep," Kinney confirmed, deciding to leave out the howl she heard too. No need for him to think she was crazy or something.

He frowned. "You have a gun?"

"Yes." She hadn't used it in ages, but it was there, and she was qualified by SHIELD to have it.

"Okay, good. Keep it on you at all times." He frowned like he wanted to say something else. "Good job, Kinney."

Kinney tried not to feel happy at his praise, but she couldn't help but be pleased. Maybe she wasn't useless after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**I honestly don't know what to think about this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy.**

Kinney used to be a songwriter. Back in college, she used to play in obscure cafés and quaint nightclubs that most people found lame. She felt so lighthearted, finally free to do what she wanted with her life. But working at an agency, it would be embarrassing if someone found out, and she's managed to keep it under wraps for a long time. Still, it was one of the few things in her life that ever made her truly happy.

Of course, if she was honest with herself, it was never just the music that made her happy. It was being around people, having things to talk about, having a life. Her small community of fellow singer/songwriters was close knit and friendly. It was within that group that she met a very handsome boy who stole her heart, took her on an impromptu road trip, and left her pining after her very own Bobby McGee.

That was alright. The young tended to heal fast, and she moved on shortly after swearing she was going to die of heartache. The first boy became little more than an occasionally fond memory, and later she realized he was an asshole nine times out of ten. The next one was pretty much the same, but that wasn't the point.

The point was, she got good at finding asshole material, and Jacobs fit the bill.

He treated her like she was his subordinate rather than his colleague, always insisting he was right and that her ideas were stupid. Not that he outright called her ideas stupid, but enough was said in his tone as they debated what questions to ask the victims' families. And the worst part was, he was right most times too. Still, that didn't mean he had to make her be the one to write everything down and complain when she didn't type fast enough or accurate enough or that she paraphrased on of his precious questions. It was infuriating. _He_ was infuriating, and she had half a mind to...

Who was she kidding? She'd always been a pushover, and that wasn't about to change anytime soon, and she wasn't gonna do squat about his attitude. So, she bit her lip and nodded, muttering apologies where they were supposedly warranted. She should just be glad he didn't send her to fetch his coffee, although that might only be because he was particular about his cup of joe.

For all that he presented a tough exterior, Jacobs was picky. He was a picky eater, picky about his coffee, picky about his work, picky about his chair. He liked his comfort, and she would go so far as to say he was spoiled with it. How he managed to be swathed in cotton yet be so confident in his abilities as an agent was a mystery to her.

Kinney had lived most of her live in uncomfortable places in very uncomfortable situations, but she was subdued and always second guessed herself. Sh wondered why that was, but maybe none of it mattered. Maybe it was ordained from birth, the kind of person someone would grow to be. Maybe she needed to stop letting her mind wander.

"Damn, you're an awful speller," Jacobs commented as she murdered the backspace button with her index finger.

She switched to using her middle finger, making him laugh. She glared at him.

"You're almost as threatening as a kitten when you scowl like that," he taunted. "Just needs more practice."

Kinney sighed and gave up on being mad, running a hand through her unruly hair. She should cut it again. It was getting too long to manage but was still too short to pull back away from her face.

"C'mon, we're almost done," Jacobs said. "Don't know about you, but I take my work seriously."

 _'Only if you like it,'_ Kinney grumbled internally, getting annoyed again.

"Okay, so let's review the opening statement," Jacobs suggested.

"You make it sound like a court case," Kinney remarked.

Jacobs shrugged. "My girlfriend is a law student. Jargon must be rubbing off."

 _'An asshole like you has a girlfriend?'_ Kinney wanted to ask, but it was none of her business, and the less she knew of Jacobs the better. Otherwise, he'd wanna know more about her, and that was never happening.

"Okay," Kinney huffed. "Opening statement starts off as…"

She made a sweeping gesture to Jacobs since it'd been decided between them, mostly by him, that he should be the one talking during the questioning.

Jacobs cleared his throat. "Hello, Mr./Ms. so-and-so, we're with animal control and heard about your relative's passing. We understand it was an animal attack, and we're in the process of apprehending the animal responsible. Would it be alright if we asked you some questions just to get a feel for your relative's common routes of travel so we could better track it?"

"That sounds awful," Kinney commented.

Jacobs frowned. "How so?"

"Well, for lots of reasons, but mostly because you sound like you're reading off a script."

Jacobs looked at her screen pointedly. "I _am_ reading off a script."

Kinney narrowed her eyes. "You ever get questioned in the aftermath of a deceased relative?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Well, if it sounds like a script, I'm pretty sure they're gonna shut the door in your face."

"Okay!" he shouted, standing up to tower over her. "Give me a break, okay? It's my second time reading it all the way through, and posing as a glorified dog catcher isn't in my job description!"

Kinney would be lying if she said she hadn't meant to needle Jacobs, but having him yell at her wasn't supposed to be so damn scary. She gripped the arms of her swivel chair and cursed herself for being so dumb. It was never good to piss off an asshole without anticipating consequences. It was like poking at a bear and wondering why it decided you were a good choice for lunch.

And then this particular bear decided to give her a pass, and Jacobs plopped himself back in his chair, his arms dangling off the edges. "Look, I think we're both tired. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow."

"Okay," Kinney agreed, willing her voice to hold steady.

Jacobs nodded and rubbed at his eyes. "Okay, but keep in mind we need to move fast on this thing. I wanna be ready by end of the work day tomorrow."

That wasn't much time, but Kinney nodded, afraid of being quarrelsome. "Sounds good."

"I'll give you a ride home."

The offer was supposed to be nice, but it came out as a command, and Kinney found herself nodding once again.

* * *

"You pissed me off," Kinney blurted out as they walked out of the building.

Jacobs blinked. "What, when?"

As far as he could tell, their day had been productive and efficient. He and Kinney got along better than they ever had since the days when they didn't acknowledge each other. When had he had time to piss her off?

"From the time you got back with your coffee."

Silence fell between them until Jacobs spoke again.

"Why didn't you tell me I was pissing you off?"

"Would it have done any good?" Kinney asked.

Jacobs chuckled. "Hard as it is to believe, yeah, it would've. I don't particularly care about the feelings of others, but anger gets in the way of good work."

"Read that off a fortune cookie?" Kinney asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but her eyes were wary.

Jacobs snorted. "Kinney, you're funnier inside your head, so keep your jokes to yourself."

All mirth disappeared from her face, and she nodded once. "Okay."

It set off alarm bells in his head, but he couldn't say why. All he knew was that Kinney was constantly coming out of her shell only to retreat right back into it. It frustrated him.

"I was kidding," Jacobs clarified for her. "Maybe it's me who isn't funny."

Kinney tried for a smile, but it didn't come out right. It was like she didn't know how to be happy anymore. Jacobs figured that was one thing they had in common, and he let it rest until they were on the road.

"Kinney?"

"Yes?"

He thought carefully about what to ask her before settling on, "How'd you end up in the UPU?"

Kinney's eyes grew distant. "Had some trouble with a fellow agent, so I called in a favor and got myself hidden in the last place anyone would think to look for me."

"The UPU."

It wasn't much a revelation, but her attitude and behavior were indicators enough to guess what kind of person she wanted to avoid. Someone had done a number on her, although in what way, Jacobs couldn't be sure. Abusers left behind similar evidence, though, and he figured he knew all he needed to.

Kinney nodded. "I like it there. It's quiet."

"Until me," Jacobs added for her.

She shrugged. "You're not so bad, when you're not yelling."

The yelling, Jacobs realized, must've freaked her out. A tiny bud of respect for Kinney sprouted within him, because he knew it would've taken a lot of courage for her to speak up after having been scared like she was. It would've been easier for her to just shut down, and she probably had before.

"Can't promise I won't yell, but I'm not like whoever it is you're dodging," Jacobs assured her.

"I was counting on that," Kinney said. "You want to do good. He never did. The job was just a job, something for his own selfish ends."

She sounded like she was still trying to convince herself her new partner wasn't so bad, but Jacobs was glad she made an effort to set him apart from the asshole she trashed her career to hide from. They were making progress, slowly but surely, and they might even be good coworkers one day.

XXX

Jacobs dropped Kinney off, making sure she made it to her door safely, and took the long way home. His girlfriend had sent him an angry email with a PowerPoint attachment detailing why she was angry, complete with an outline of the main points and pictures to emphasize. He found it ridiculous, and he would've laughed if he didn't know that she was gonna be very bitchy when he walked through the door.

This time the issue was that his mother called. Raquel liked Jacobs's mother, but she hated how he used her as a buffer to his family. According to her, it wasn't a mature thing to do, especially since they weren't that serious.

Together for two years and cohabiting, but not serious. If that wasn't a red flag, Jacobs didn't know what was. And the worst part was, Raquel had a point. Their relationship was based off a shared need for a roommate to pay half the rent. They made financial sense together, and they were both so busy they hardly saw each other enough to fight.

When they did see each other, they fought seventy-five percent of the time, and their fights were wild. Most days it ended with wild making up too, which Jacobs didn't mind, but it wasn't good enough to build a relationship on.

"Your mother said you should call your brother, because it's his birthday today," Raquel started in on him before he could even remove his jacket.

Jacobs grimaced. "I'm not calling my brother."

Raquel scowled. "You gonna call you mother at least and explain to her why, or should I do that when she calls tomorrow asking for an explanation?"

"Well, if you're offering…" Jacobs tried to joke.

"Damn it, Aaron!" Raquel snapped. "I'm not your damn secretary, asshole!"

"Right, you're a barista with thousands of dollars-worth of student loans and counting," Jacobs sneered, knowing the cheap shot would hurt her.

A sour look poured over her face. "And as a barista, my job does not include stonewalling your family for you. I do that enough with my own, thank you very much."

"That's right," Jacobs said. "Your family is still pissy you live with a white guy, right, _Chica_?"

Raquel bristled. "Maybe they have a point, _gringo_. You're so much of a coward, you can't even call your own brother."

"My brother is in prison," Jacobs revealed, fed up with the argument. "He's in for murdering his wife, so forgive me if I don't wanna chat with the guy. As for my mother, she still thinks he's innocent even though he was caught on camera beating the shit out of his victim, and she's always trying to get me to use work resources to prove his insane claim. So yeah, I don't wanna talk to them, either of them, and if that makes me a coward, so be it."

Raquel was torn between egging him on and having mercy on him. But one piece of new information she had learned that day prevented her from letting it drop.

"You're just mad because you were banging his wife behind his back, and that's why he snapped."

Jacobs went still. "Who told you that?"

"Your mother."

"She had no right–" Jacobs started to say.

"Why not?" Raquel pushed. "She and I are practically friends from how much we talk. She said she liked me and thought I should know all the facts."

Jacobs noticed Raquel's quivering lip and knew she was hurt, but he didn't care. He just needed to be away from her, away from everyone who knew of his biggest mistake.

"We're done," he said in a state of forced calm that surprised even himself.

Raquel burst into tears and tried apologizing, assuring him that it didn't matter, that they could work it out and she just wanted him to know that she knew, but he couldn't even hear her. As much as she annoyed him, he did like her, but he wasn't gonna stick around and see the judgement in her eyes day in and day out. Because how could she not judge him? He certainly judged himself every single day, hated the guy in the mirror, hated everything, and tried so damn hard to make up for what he had done.

 **So, this seemed very forced to my eyes, but I needed to update. Also, I know not much is happening yet, but I wanted to give more insight into my characters' backgrounds. Walking that fine line of "how much do I reveal now?" you know?  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs.**

Jacobs wasn't sure what exactly had happened or how it all went to shit, but one moment Kinney and he were interviewing a so-called witness, and the next, they were fighting off a crazed man. Jacobs thought for sure they were gonna lose, what with Kinney unconscious and him getting himself pinned by their attacker. And then there was that blonde lady. She shot the crazed man, the man with yellow eyes and teeth that didn't belong to any human.

"You okay?" the woman asked, moving the body off him.

Jacobs managed a nod sat up slowly. From the way his head was throbbing, he'd taken a bump to his noggin, and his back ached from being tackled, but he was okay overall.

Blondie went to check on Kinney. "No bites or scratches so that's good, but your partner's head will probably feel worse than yours when she wakes up."

"Who are you?" Jacobs asked, "and what was that thing?"

She gave a enigmatic smile "Name's Jo, and that was a werewolf."

* * *

Jo had been having a rough go of things lately. Since news had traveled about Dean's decent into hell, she had gone back out on the road again, finding cases pattered all around the states. Hunting was a way for her to feel close to Dean again as well as her father, both of whom had died on the job.

At the same time, she felt stupid, because she hadn't been close to Dean. They shared some common experiences and had a few momets, but the results of their respective choices had kept them apart. It was more like missing what could have been instead of what was, and Jo berated herself for how childish because it was.

"Wrong place, wrong time," she recalled her past-self saying.

Those words could sum them up for eternity, and there was no need to dwell on it. She did anyway.

In any case, Jo was back to the grind. Her mother was talking to her again, but she still didn't approve, not that Jo blamed her. Jo could see it from her mom's point of view, maybe not with one-hundred percent clarity, but Jo wouldn't want a child of her own with such a dangerous occupation. It didn't stop her from going her own way, though.

"You got anything for me, Bobby?" she asked, phone to her ear.

Bobby grunted. "Your mother would kill me if she knew I was handing out hunts to you."

Jo rolled her eyes. Bobby said the same thing every time they were on the phone.

"Then don't tell her."

"Have to," Bobby said. "She'll find out anyway and call me up, yelling about how I gave you a job too dangerous. Might as well tell her myself, get the eardrum-busting lecture over with."

Jo huffed, almost laughing for the first time in weeks. "You do that, Bobby. Now, tell me the job."

"Got a wolfy situation is Virginia, near D.C."

"Lunar cycle matches up?" Jo asked.

"Mm-hmm," Bobby hummed in the affirmative. "Seems to be in one area. I'll send you the coordinates and the info."

"Thanks, Bobby," Jo said. "Other than that, how are things with you?"

A weary sigh came over the line. "How do you think?"

The click came before Jo could ask anything else, but she didn't take it personal. It'd been a hard couple of months for everyone, and maybe the only person more deeply affected than Bobby by Dean's passing was Sam, who was currently off the grid from everybody. Sam, she couldn't help, but Jo made a mental note to have her mom call Bobby to check in. Then she packed her things and drove off to Virginia.

* * *

"I thought it was an animal attack," Helen, the most recent victim's mother, said, "so, why are the FBI interested?"

"Just routine," Jo lied.

Helen merely nodded, too deep in grief to think it through all the way. "Are you coordinating with animal control in case it really was an animal?"

Jo blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Animal control," Helen repeated. "They sent a couple of people over earlier, said they wanted to track my daughter's last movements to better analyze the animal's patterns."

"Oh, right," Jo said. "I'm sorry, yes. It just slipped my mind. We are considering all possibilities."

"I see," Helen said in that distant tone Jo now associated with numb devastation. It always seemed most prevalent in the parents of victims. Jo's mother briefly flashed through her mind, but Jo shoved the thought away. Now was not the time.

While Jo wrapped up with Helen, she wondered if animal control really was on the hunt for an animal, or if there was a pair of hunters in the area who caught wind of the case before she did. She would have to call Bobby and ask.

* * *

Jo leaned back in her booth at the nearest diner in the neighborhood, a joint called D.C. Diner, which was unoriginal, not to mention inaccurate. D.C. was a few miles away. The food was passable, though, edible.

Bobby said there were no other hunters in the area to his knowledge and was shorter with her than usual. He was slurring even more than before too, and Jo texted her mother right away to call the old man. There was no reply, but Jo knew her mom had done it anyway, probably giving Bobby that chewing-out he kept dreading and mentioning.

"No one is taking us seriously," said a man in the booth behind hers. "Should've known it was a dumb idea, posing as a dog catcher."

"It's because you're too intense to pass for animal control," said a female voice. "You should be interested in getting the job done but also more sympathetic."

"Like you're any help. All you do is stand there nervously like someone's gonna call us out."

"Actually, I'm not too concerned with that. I just don't like talking to people."

"Whatever you say, Kinney. I still think we'd have been better off posing as law enforcement, like FBI or something."

'Kinney' sighed. "It's against regulations to pose as local or other federal law enforcement without authorization, Jacobs, but you already knew that. Anyway, FBI creds take longer to forge, especially if I gotta do it without our organizational resources."

'Jacobs' stood up and threw some money on the table to cover their meal. "Whatever. I still feel dumb with our cover."

Jo watched them leave and tried to memorize their faces. She had partial names at least, and maybe Bobby or her mom could do something with that. They didn't sound like hunters, but if they were, they seemed like rookies, and sloppy ones at that, which was dangerous for everyone.

 _'What are my options?'_ Jo thought to herself as she payed for her food. _'I could join them, or tail them and see what turns up, or ignore their involvement and concentrate on my own work.'_

Tailing them seemed like the best plan. Working with beginners was risky, and Jo wouldn't put her mother through what Helen was dealing with. Not if she could help it.

* * *

"We missed something," Kinney said, laptop open as she scrolled through the local police station's database.

Jacobs sighed, beyond ready to drop Kinney off at her place, call it a night and go home. Then he remembered he couldn't and would only end up sleeping in the office again, and he let out another sigh. Walking out on Raquel had been short-sighted, and he kicked himself for not at least leasing another apartment first.

"What is it, Kinney?"

She pointed to her screen. "Before the bodies started turning up, there was an attack with a survivor."

Jacobs perked up. "What, really? How'd SHIELD's program miss something like that?"

"Maybe it only checks for murders," Kinney suggested.

"You have an address?" Jacobs asked hopefully.

His partner nodded reluctantly and entered it into the GPS. "Guess this means more talking, huh?"

"C'mon, Kinney, this is a break! It's a good thing."

"I know," she said, still unenthusiastic. "Guess sleep can wait."

"It's not even that late," Jacobs pointed out. "Only eight."

Kinney shut her laptop. "Seems later."

Jacobs said nothing, still unsure exactly what it was they were looking at here. Theories abounded from a murderous cult to a serial killer who used dogs to do his dirty work, but they all sounded farfetched to him. Not as farfetched as Kinney's werewolf idea, but still, this was strange.

"Don't worry," he said, shooting his reluctant partner a smile he hoped was reassuring. "We'll be okay."

* * *

The rookies were almost done fore before Jo showed up. The woman, Kinney, had been knocked out by the werewolf. Jacobs was holding it away with all he had, but he was about five seconds from being eaten.

"Hey!" she shouted, getting wolfy's attention.

When it looked up at her, she didn't hesitate to shoot it in the heart. It howled and collapsed lifelessly onto Jacobs who squirmed his way out from under it with Jo's help.

"You okay?" Jo asked.

He nodded, but she wasn't sure if it was just out of habit, because he looked like he had his bell rung pretty well. Still, a concussion was ideal in this situation considering the alternative. Speaking of, Jo gave Jacobs and Kinney a good once over.

"No bites or scratches so that's good, but your partner's head will probably feel worse than yours when she wakes up."

Jacobs ignored her comments, regaining some of his senses. "Who are you? And what was that thing?"

Having grown up in the life, Jo never got over how weird it was that some people needed this explained to them. "Name's Jo, and that was a werewolf."

 **So, I'm not happy with this chapter _at all,_ as per usual. However, it's been a while since I updated, and I figured the story needed to move on. I'm still practicing writing scenes in between the scenes I envision clearly. My mind keeps skipping ahead of where the story is. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope it's okay and that y'all enjoy it.**


	5. Chapter 5

When she came to, Kinney was confused but not about the werewolf on the floor or about nearly dying. No, she was confused as to her lack of reaction.

Learning the supernatural existed as she thought should've been terrifying. It should've left her shaking and crying and begging for it all to be a bad dream. Instead, she felt calm, dead calm.

Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so odd if Jacobs, cool and collected Jacobs, wasn't having a meltdown. He was grilling Jo, their mysterious hero, and the blonde was not appreciating it.

"Look, I don't know what else to say!" Jo snapped. "Monsters are real, and werewolves are just the tip of the iceberg."

"What else is there?" Kinney asked before Jacobs could open his mouth again. "Vampires, ghosts, demons?"

"All of the above and more," Jo said, eyes narrowed at Kinney as though she saw something familiar in her. Whatever Jo saw, it made her dig around for a business card and hand it to the injured agent. "This is a card if you're interested in learning more, but I gotta warn you, it's not glamorous, knowing all about this stuff."

"There has to be a more logical explanation," Jacobs said for the fourth time that night. "It can't be true."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Look, I gotta go before the cops show. Someone's bound to have heard the gunshot."

"Thanks," Kinney said softly as Jacobs kept shaking his head.

Jo nodded once in acknowledgement and went on her way. Kinney envied Jo her escape and braced herself to talk to the police, wondering what plausible bullshit she could spin.

 _'Best to be straightforward,'_ she thought. _'We came to chat with Davis, he attacked us, we defended ourselves. No need to mention anything else.'_

Yeah, now that Kinney weighed it in her mind, the cops would be the easy part. It was explaining everything to SHIELD that would be a challenge. She groaned at the thought of it.

* * *

"Would you like to explain to me what two agents who were strictly on observation only duties were doing hunting down a killer?" Director Fury asked.

Jacobs was still reeling and not fit to be giving his very angry boss a debrief, but such was life. Kinney cleared her throat, her face pensive, and he knew she was contemplating telling the truth. It was a truth he still couldn't fully believe, and he wasn't looking forward to the skepticism sure to follow.

 _'Whatever you do, please don't say it!'_ Jacobs thought as loud as he could, hoping Kinney would hear it somehow, but she didn't.

"It was a werewolf, sir."

"A werewolf?" Fury repeated slowly, tasting the insanity of the word. "Are you in shock, Agent?"

"She is," Jacobs interjected, not wanting to get painted with the same brush of craziness. "She also took one hell of a bump to the head too."

Fury fixed them with that steely gaze of his. "I see."

"No," Kinney said. "I'm not in shock. We fought a werewolf and almost lost, but we got in the heart, and it died."

Ah, and that's where the truth stopped. Kinney was obviously protecting Jo, the scary chick who saved their skin.

"Werewolves don't exist," Director Fury said sternly, just barely containing his anger.

"Why not?" Kinney pressed. "Aliens do, if the older SHIELD files are to be believed."

"You mean the SHIELD files that are off limits to agents with your pitiful clearance?" Fury barked.

Kinney flinched, her bravery slipping away. "I didn't seek out the information, Director, but my job in the UPU sometimes–"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Fury cut her off, and she froze, but she kept her head up as he continued. "Now, you have obviously in the past accessed restricted files, conducted an unsanctioned investigation, which was poorly carried out, and have either gone crazy or are lying to me right now." He took a breath. "By all rights, I should fire you, but you've caught me in a good mood all things considered. That said, I'm suspending you both for two months, and when you come back, I expect your reports to make sense. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they mumbled together.

Fury nodded sharply. "Wonderful. Now, get out of my sight."

Jacobs and Kinney slunk away, suitably cowed, but once they were in the hall, Kinney's eyes met his.

"It's true," she whispered in awe.

He cringed at her calm acceptance, at their role reversal. "It doesn't matter."

She blinked. "Why do you say that?"

"Because they won't believe us, and when we come back, we'll be in the UPU again."

"What if we got proof?" she suggested.

No. No, no, no. Jacobs wanted life to go back to how it was mere hours ago. Maybe the man was simply sick and turned rabid somehow. Then again, proof either way could help get them out of the hot seat with the director.

"How?"

Kinney held up the business card Jo had given her. "I've got a couple of months to kill. How about you?"

"No!" was Jacobs's immediate response, a knee-jerk reaction to all that had transpired.

"Why not? You're the one who wants to make a difference and get out of the UPU. This is the way to do it."

Anger clouded Jacobs's mind, and it was his turn to yell. "Damn it, Kinney, you weren't the one who held off the son of a bitch! I was barely keeping him from ripping my throat out, and where were you? Useless as always, knocked out in the damn corner."

Jacobs took a breath. It was too much, the entire concept of the supernatural. He wanted to be important, but not like this, not with stuff he couldn't pin down with hard facts.

"You were scared," Kinney said as though it hadn't even occurred to her before. "You still are."

Jacobs jerked his head down once in the affirmative and didn't look back up, missing Kinney's softening expression.

"That's how I feel all the time," she confided.

His eyes met Kinney's, and he saw a challenge in hers. Was he a coward? Was he going to let fear control his life the way it had controlled Kinney's for so long?

"What do you have to lose?" Kinney asked.

It was a question asked with flippancy, not really meant to be answered. She didn't know about Jacobs's breakup with Raquel, or about his shattered family and past mistakes. All she knew was he didn't like his job and was trying to give him a better one. He marveled at how accepting she was of it all. Kinney, the definition of a nervous wreck, had a mission for the first time in her life, and he knew she wasn't about to let it go.

"Fine," he said, giving in. "Someone's gotta make sure you don't get yourself killed."

Kinney almost smiled at that.

* * *

 _Ring!_

Bobby Singer's phone screamed at him, and he answered with a groggy, hungover, "Yeah?"

 _"Hello, is this Mr. Singer?"_

The voice belonged to what sounded like a young man, but he wasn't familiar, and it made Bobby sigh in annoyance.

"Whatever you're selling, I ain't buying."

 _"I'm not selling anything,"_ he said hurriedly as though he could sense Bobby was a second away from hanging up. _"I'm Aaron Jacobs, and I got your card from a hunter who said her name was Jo."_

Bobby sat up straighter. "Yeah, and?"

 _"And she said to call you if I wanted to learn more about the supernatural."_

Bobby tightened his grip on the phone, going from annoyed to angry in a heartbeat. "No."

 _"No?"_

"You stay away from the life, you hear?" he growled, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "It ends bloody, and if you're not in yet, you don't get in, understand?"

Jacobs paused before saying, _"I'd appreciate your guidance, Mr. Singer, but I'm content to figure things out on my own if need be."_

Damn, he hated when newbies said that. It meant they were serious, and now he faced a dilemma. Bobby could let the dumbass try his luck and probably get killed, or he could teach Jacobs and maybe keep him alive for a few years or so.

"You have an e-mail?" Bobby grumbled.

"Yes."

"Give it to me, and I'll send you coordinates. Meet me in two days if you're serious."

"We'll be there," Jacobs said after rattling off his e-mail.

Bobby furrowed his brows. "We?"

Jacobs hung up.

* * *

"Thanks for making the call," Kinney said, "I hate talking on the phone."

Jacobs shook his head at her. "I don't get you. You take werewolves in stride but balk at basic communication."

She was glad he was starting to sound like himself again, less scared, more ornery. "Life doesn't have to make sense, Scully."

The 'Scully' was added hesitantly, and Kinney was relieved when all Jacobs said was, "If you say so, Mulder."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs.**

The coordinates Bobby sent Jacobs led to an abandoned house in a Texas town called Crystal City. It was far from Sioux Falls, so if this was a setup, Bobby's home and collection of lore wouldn't be compromised. Jo, after he'd yelled at her for getting more people in the life, had explained who Jacobs was and who he'd be bringing along.

"I thought only Kinney would call you," Jo had said. "Keep your guard up, though, Bobby. Those two are strange, and I think they might be government somehow."

Even before hunting, Bobby had never had much use for the government or law enforcement, and after, they were no more than a pain in his ass. "Why'd you send them my way then?"

Jo had sighed. "I saw her face, Bobby. She wasn't gonna let it go."

Bobby understood. Jo was just trying to make sure the newbie had a snowball's chance out there. Although, the fact that Jacobs was the one who called concerned Bobby. From what Jo had said, the man wasn't accepting of what he'd learned, and Bobby's suspicions skyrocketed.

Jacobs and Kinney approached in a black SUV, the kind government types loved to parade around in, and Bobby couldn't help the sneer that formed on his face. People like them made life hard for people like him, not to mention Sam and… well, hunters in general.

* * *

Kinney was excited and nervous, but she tried to concentrate on the excitement. It had been some time since she looked forward to anything, and odd as it seemed, learning more about the supernatural ignited an eagerness within Kinney that hadn't known she was capable of.

"How'd you know it would work?" Jacobs asked.

Kinney glanced over at him. "How did I know what would work?"

"How'd you know telling Singer we'd venture into the supernatural, even if we had to lone it, was the way to get him to help us?"

Oh that. Kinney recalled how irritated Jacobs was when she put the phone on silent and suggested the idea to him in a hurried spill of words. Truthfully, she wondered herself how she'd known it would work. She just had, but she tried to remember the incident backwards to slow it down.

"Well, when he tried to warn you away, I thought he'd feel obligated to provide us with assistance if we proved stubborn."

Jacobs glared out the front windshield as they turned down a dusty back road. "You understand people as if you have an outside vantage point, you know that?"

Kinney didn't know how to take that. "Uh, thank you?"

He cleared his throat, angling to keep the conversation going. "Were you gonna be a profiler for SHIELD, before the UPU?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. I was good at reading people, as long as I wasn't close to them, so maybe they would've groomed me for it eventually. I was just fresh out of training, but anything's possible, I guess."

They fell silent for a time, but Jacobs wouldn't stand for it too long. He disliked the quiet, the stillness. Kinney was sure he was going to make a complaint in the next minute, and she wasn't disappointed.

"I still don't see why we had to come all the way out here," Jacobs griped. "There's no way he lives here."

"He has to check us out," she said. "We'd do the same if the tables were turned."

Jacobs grunted, but she couldn't tell if he agreed or not. Probably not, but he was dropping it for now. She'd count it as a win.

"So, what's our plan?"

Kinney thought for a moment. "I want to retrieve a creature to present to SHIELD and get more funding and personnel for the UPU."

"So the monsters have to face an agency and not rogues who work outside the law," Jacobs said.

"Exactly."

"Okay, but we need to be careful, maybe hold off telling this Bobby Singer character about our intentions."

"You're right," Kinney said. "We need to take it all slow, because last time we rushed into things and made horribly idiotic decisions. So, now we observe and absorb all we can."

"Agreed," Jacobs confirmed sullenly as he pulled up to the crumbling house.

They took a breath, braced themselves, and opened their doors.

"You're late," a gruff man with a beard groused as they stepped out of their vehicle.

"Sorry, we had trouble following vague directions," Jacobs snarked at him.

The bearded man scowled. "Stow the attitude, sonny. If you can't handle vague, you might as well walk away now."

"We can deal with vagueness," Kinney interjected before Jacobs could say anything again. "It's just been a long drive. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Singer."

Bobby Singer eyed her in a way that reminded Kinney of Jo's silent appraisal. "You're the diplomatic one, ain't you?"

Kinney shrugged, unsure how to answer. It wasn't that she was good at diplomacy or mediation. She just didn't like fighting, but something told her Singer would drive away if she said something so stupid.

Singer jerked his head towards the house he was standing in front of. "Come on in then."

When they passed the threshold, Singer held out glasses filled with water. "Drink this."

"Why?" Jacobs demanded to know, already fed up with the old man.

"It's holy water. Let's me know if you're a demon."

Jacobs rolled his eyes but followed Kinney's lead, complying with the request. "Satisfied?"

"Almost," Singer said, drawing a knife from his belt. "This is silver. I'm gonna cut you with it."

"The hell you are!" Jacobs backed away, tempted to make a dash for the car.

Kinney tilted her head at Singer. "What does cutting us tell you?"

"It's how I'll know if you're a shifter, wraith, or revenent."

"Or a werewolf?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"What'll happen if I am one of those things?"

"Your skin will ripple and crack, or otherwise burn. If that happens, I'll kill you where you stand."

Kinney nodded thoughtfully, and held out her arm. Jacobs scowled at Kinney, and she knew he'd pitch a fit later about her being too trusting and how they should've left as soon as the knife came out. Instead, she allowed Singer to make a small slice. When nothing happened, he gestured to Jacobs.

"Your turn."

Jacobs's scowl deepened, but he held out his arm too. He couldn't allow himself to be outdone by Kinney.

With the tests over, Singer sat on a folding chair and waved them over to a chewed up, worn couch. Kinney plopped into her seat while Jacobs swatted the mutilated cushions first before sitting. Singer snorted, and Kinney felt oddly embarrassed, sinking into the sofa as much as possible.

"What agency do you work for?" Singer asked briskly, wanting to get the pleasantries over with and ignoring their looks of surprise. "Jo said you looked like Feds, right down to the brainless way you carry out an investigation. She also said you weren't investigating officially, so how'd you catch on to the werewolf's scent?"

Jacobs stepped in front of Kinney. "We're not at liberty to give the name of our employer at this time."

"What an official, automatic, absolutely bullshit response," Singer said, "I say we give that another go. Who do you work for?"

"We can't say," Jacobs repeated.

Singer's face tightened in suspicion and disgust. "Well then, I guess I can't help you."

"SHIELD," Kinney answered before she could think it through, before Jacobs could talk sense into her. "It stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"Kinney!" Jacobs all but yelped in shock at her blatant disregard for protocol.

Kinney didn't blame him. She was appalled at herself too. She was so out of character, had been since the incident, but something about what they'd stumbled upon called to her. She didn't just want to learn about the supernatural. She _needed_ to, in a way that she'd never needed anything before.

"That name sounds familiar," Singer mused, shoulders relaxing a bit as he finally got some useful info. "Most folks say the organization doesn't exist."

"Most folks are wrong," Kinney said, avoiding eye contact with Jacobs as much as possible. "We're part of a department called the UPU, which stands for the Unexplained Phenomena Unit. Mostly, we just track incidents, no investigating, but then…"

"Then I happened," Jacobs said, picking up where his loose-lipped partner trailed off. "I insisted on looking into the murders, and Kinney was dragged into it."

"Seems like the other way around now," Singer observed. "Bet that annoys the hell out of you."

Jacobs flushed in embarrassment and frustration. "I didn't get dragged anywhere. I volunteered."

"So did I," Kinney cut in, "and now we both do. We're here, and we want to learn."

Singer nodded thoughtfully. "How much?"

Kinney blinked. "Pardon?"

"How much do you want to learn?" Singer clarified. "Are you wanting lore and facts or hands-on application?"

"Hands-on," Jacobs answered for both of them, although his face twisted in distaste at the thought of tangling with another werewolf. "Gonna have to be."

"And why is that?" Singer asked. "Why do you want to hunt?"

Jacobs and Kinney exchanged a look before Jacobs piped up with, "I had a werewolf's teeth three inches from my throat. For me, it's not even a question. I'll never feel safe again without knowing how to effectively kill those things."

"And I go where Jacobs does," Kinney said, somewhat astonished by the quick loyalty she felt towards the troublesome man.

Singer smirked at the pair, apparently satisfied with their answers. "Well then, let's see if you got what it takes to survive your first real hunt."


End file.
